| |
| ONE more gravestone—one more heart | |
| Cold and still has found relief, | |
| From the joy and bitter smart, | |
| From the wrath of other’s grief. | |
| |
| Where the ash is strewn about | 5 |
| Lies the dear old fiddle lone | |
| And the crazy song rang out | |
| With a sudden sound of moan. | |
| |
| Strong and earnest, unafraid | |
| Rose the song clear and high. | 10 |
| Ring the bell—the piece is played! | |
| Hushed the laughter, hushed the cry. | |
| |
| In the land where, free from pain, | |
| Thou, dear soul, art gone to live, | |
| One assurance still retain | 15 |
| All the comfort we can give. | |
| |
| This, while yet there lives a Jew, | |
| Through the many coming years | |
| Shall thy songs be sung anew | |
| Some with laughter, some with tears. | 20 |
| |
| Sleep thou spirit sweet and rare, | |
| Where the leaves of life are shed! | |
| Thine own songs shall be the Pray’r | |
| Spoke in blessing o’er the dead. | |
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